


Friendly Fire

by Kitashi



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Brotp, Gen, Lucien POV, This is mostly the two of them talking about issues and becoming friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitashi/pseuds/Kitashi
Summary: When Cassian finds Lucien blowing off some steam in the Night Court, the two unwittingly find themselves as sparring partners for the afternoon. But what starts as friendly fire quickly turns to an unexpected confidence that allows them both to break down some of the demons that have been chasing them and find a friend they never knew they needed.





	Friendly Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Look, another Lucien POV! Not the one I originally planned, but another one anyway! This one comes from a request posted on the @acotarkinkmeme on Tumblr, but is one of the few safe for work requests. 
> 
> Prompt:   
> Lucien and Cassian Brotp; again, when Lucien comes to the night court, Cassian uses sparring lessons to show Lucien that the Illyrians aren’t monsters, he shows him what an actual friend looks like. Parallel to the scene between him and Feyre in ACOMAF where she breaks down. I just want Lucien to have a friend okay??
> 
> The biggest thanks to @illyriantremors, who despite having not read this beforehand has heard me talk about it enough that she was able to put together a summary & title because I failed after hours of trying, as well as helped by giving me help with ideas for conversations between these two. I would be lost without her lol
> 
> So here you go! Hopefully it meets your expectations requester! Enjoy! :)

The Night Court was far more beautiful than I had ever imagined.

Well, specifically Velaris. But it was hard to merge together the stories of the most wicked of the seven courts with this… peaceful, cultural haven. I had wandered through the streets looking at brightly colored shops and vendors at different points since I had arrived here, smelling the spices and food, admiring the beautiful architecture that I could probably stare at for hours on end. The sound of music wafting from the theaters that I wanted to visit, calling to my soul in a way I hadn't felt since I had been young in the Autumn Court—before everything went to hell.

I wondered if I could ever enjoy it as I once did.

But now I hit the training dummy on the rooftop of what Feyre called the House of Wind with my sword every which way and felt like a complete idiot, and it only made me hit it harder. I had lost track of how long I’d been out here, but I wasn't ready to quit yet. It was cathartic. 

“Your technique is awful,” a voice called from behind me. I turned to see the smirking Illyrian commander—Cassian, I had to remind myself—leaning lazily against the nearby wall with his arms crossed.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, displeased that I had an audience.

The smirk grew wider, into an outright grin. “Long enough to know you wouldn't last in a real sword fight.”

“What do you know about swordsmanship?” I snapped, sheathing my sword and scowling at him. I had held a blade in my hand since before I could remember—trained with it almost as long. He pushed himself off the railing and reached behind his back, unsheathing a sword that I hadn't even seen. It was a beautiful blade—from the similar look to Tamlin's knives, it was Illyrian made—and with a few steps and one swipe of the blade, the head of the training dummy was on the floor, rolling away.

“Plenty.” 

My hand gripped the pommel of my sword. “Effective, but that is hardly what I would call finesse,” I scoffed, trying not to give away the slight fear I felt. Cassian shrugged.

“Fights usually aren't pretty. Sometimes it's kill or be killed out there—doesn't matter how, just that the result is in your favor.”

“Spoken like a true Illyrian,” I snapped. Their ruthlessness on the battlefield was legendary, and I was starting to see how it could be true.

“I should hope so.” He gave me a sly look. “How about a friendly match? Your style versus mine. First to three strikes wins.” 

I narrowed my eyes. “And how do I know you aren't going to cheat? Illyrians aren't exactly known for their honor,” I said flatly.

“You’re right; you don't, and they aren't. Especially Illyrian bastards.” He grinned wolfishly. “But I don't know if  _ you _ will be honorable either, being from Spring and all.” He rolled his neck and gave me a grin that made me unsure this spar was going to be as friendly as he claimed. “So what's it gonna be?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You're serious?”

“You want to mouth off, then back it up.” Cassian positioned himself in a fighting stance and held the sword in his hand with a different style than I had ever seen. I nodded and fell into my familiar stance—one that was as familiar as breathing.

I shifted my foot. Before I could blink, the flat of his blade was against my arm.

“One-zero,” he said with a cocky grin. “Pay attention.” I scowled as he stepped back and got into position again. This time when he lunged, I managed to dodge and circle him, but it was almost impossible with the wings that protruded from his back. I launched myself at his back, for the scabbard I saw was placed along his spine, between where his wings protruded from his back. The flat of my blade landed on his chest as he whirled around.

“One-one,” I said. 

“One-one,” he agreed, “but a word of warning—try to hit the wings again, and I promise it will not be the flat of my blade that you find buried in your heart.” His tone was light, but I could tell there was a very real threat behind it.

I positioned myself defensively again, keeping an eye on him as we waited for the other to make their move. “Protective much?” I called out. Faster than I could blink, his sword tapped my stomach.

“Two-one.” I scowled at him, but didn't reply. “We’re trained from birth to protect our wings at all costs,” he offered in explanation. “I already almost lost them once. That was enough.” The image of Hybern flashed through my head—the agonized scream that had ripped through the air as that powerful blast had been shot at the poisoned Shadowsinger and how he had shielded him. In the light, I could see the scars and raised tissue that mottled the wings of the man in front of me. He winced almost imperceptibly as he shifted one of them.

“It gets easier,” I said suddenly.

“What does?” I got a lucky hit in against his other arm. Two-two.

I gestured to his wings. He laughed bitterly.

“What would you know about that?” I raised an eyebrow and tapped my metal eye. He winced at the action.

“Oh. Right.” We continue circling each other, waiting for our opening. 

“When I came to, after it happened, I felt like my entire head was being torn in two,” I said. I wasn't even sure why I was telling him, but I felt like I should say something. “I was surprised it was only one eye, and I hated it. I’d have rather lost both eyes and been blind to the world if it meant I didn’t have to see what a disfigured mess I’d become.” 

“So what got you over it?” Cassian asked, curiosity coloring his voice. He had stopped moving, though his sword remained out.

I snorted and lowered my sword, though I remained aware of where he was. In case he was trying to lower my guard. “I got stuck with that abysmal fox mask for fifty years and suddenly, one eye didn’t seem like such problem.” Cassian laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, well there's no cure all for these. You can't bring back what once was lost.” He shook his wings slightly and winced.

“Have you tried working with them?” I asked. 

“No good,” he said almost dismissively. “They hurt too much if I try to get airborne. They've told me if I strain them—”

“Have they told you that you can never fly again?” I interrupted.

His brow furrowed. “They—”

“Have they told you that you can't fly.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“So then why are you here harassing me? You should be working with them. Prove to them that you are a stubborn bastard.”

He chuckled. “You don't know how literal your statement actually is. That’s why I was here. Because Mor got tired of watching me mope and sicked my High Lord and High Lady on me. Imagine my surprise that my quiet training place was already occupied. Speaking of which,” he crossed his arms again, “how did you get up here? There is literally a thousand stairs and the House is protected against winnowing.”

“Feyre offered to take me when I asked if there was a place I could practice without interruption. Obviously she was mistaken.” Cassian chuckled.

“Or she did it on purpose. She knows I like to come here.” He tilted his head. “So why were you out here?” he asked. There was no mocking in his tone.

“I don't belong here,” I confessed. “When I came to the Night Court with Feyre and requested an audience with the High Lord, I didn't expect to feel like I was going Under the Mountain again. But walking into that throne room of his—theirs—watching her turn into a completely different person before my eyes and take a seat on his lap as a crown appeared on her head... until they dismissed everyone, I thought I had just walked into my death.” I took a seat on the ground, not feeling like sparring anymore. “I didn't agree with what Tamlin did, I didn't like that he went to Hybern to force Feyre to come ho—back to Spring. But I didn't do anything about it. I let him put Prythian in danger, even though I saw the warning signs. And when things got too bad, I ran.” It was the first time I had said all of this out loud, even to myself.

“The first step to healing is accepting you were wrong.” I scowled at him, but he didn't laugh. If anything, he looked thoughtful.

“I see a lot of the issues Feyre came to Velaris with in you, too,” he continued. “I wonder if it is just a Spring Court thing?”

I frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Feyre had a similar reaction,” he said softly, taking a seat on the ground next to me, “when she first came here. She blamed herself for the deaths of the two faeries she had to kill Under the Mountain. She punched holes in my protective gloves right on this same rooftop, with fire.” He paused. “Say, doesn't that belong to your court, fox-boy?”

“That hasn't been my court in a long time,”I gritted out. “And it's Lucien, not fox-boy.”

There was that mocking grin again. “Would you prefer I call you something else? I’m sure Foxy—”

“On second thought, fox-boy is fine,” I amended hastily. He chuckled.

“Fine,  _ Lucien. _ Anyway, she blamed herself so much that she admitted that she just wanted enough time after freeing you all from the curse to turn the knife on herself.” I couldn't hide the shock I felt, though if he noticed, Cassian didn't acknowledge it.

“She was a mess when she came out of that court,” he continued. “And after we got back from Hybern and Az and I found out that our brother's mate, our friend and practically our sister, had been taken back to Spring—that she had sacrificed herself for us to escape… that was bad enough. But when Rhys revealed he had made her his High Lady… Prythian was lucky that Rhys was so adamant that she could handle herself and ordered us to let her do what she wanted without interference unless she asked. We would have razed the Spring Court, damn the consequences, to get her back. Even if it cost us our lives.”

“You are very devoted to him,” I said plainly. “And to Feyre.”

Cassian nodded. “The Court of Dreams is based on three things: to defend, to honor, and to cherish.” He shrugged. “The rules we follow are flexible, but as long as what we do doesn't break one of those three creeds or put our Court in danger, Rhys doesn't care. But there is still a level of earned trust. That you came to the Court of Nightmares to bring her home, to ask them to allow you to help, and neither Feyre or Rhys turned you away tells me that they trust you. The fact that you are still here and neither Azriel or Amren has killed you in your sleep tells me that you're a decent enough man.”

I mulled over his words for a moment. “You are not what I expected,” I said finally. And I meant it.

He snickered. “What, did you think the whole Night Court was like the Court of Nightmares?”

I had indeed. That's all I had ever seen. It's all Prythian had ever seen.

He seemed to take my silence for the agreement it was, and sobered a bit looking up at the darkening sky. “To be honest though, in that mountain city, we all wear masks. They may not be like the one you were cursed with—not as visible—but just as real. We play the monsters, Feyre included, to keep the people here safe. To keep each other safe. We feel trapped there, but at least we know we will get out. The camps, for all their brutality, we can keep in line. Because they still have more honor than some of the highest ranking denizens of that cesspit in the Hewn City.”

Before I could ask what he meant, Cassian suddenly stood up, surprisingly gracefully for the wings, and held out a hand to help me up.

“We’re all going to Rita's soon. Mor’s idea as usual. Why don't you join us?”

I shook my head. “I don't—”

“You are coming, and that's final,” If Feyre is going to include you with the Inner Circle, there are some duties you must fulfill as one of our friends.”

_ Friends _ . “Such as?”

He smirked. “Helping Az and I take Rhys for all he’s worth in cards until Mor manages to convince Az to join her out on the dance floor. Besides, we’re tied two for two, but there are other ways we can compete to see who gets that final point.”

It sounded ridiculous. But it also sounded  _ fun _ .

I gave him the most genuine smile I had given anyone since I had come here. “Count me in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! All comments and suggestions are welcome, & if you have a POV/scene you would really like to see, please let me know! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Also, I have a writing Tumblr! If anyone is interested in talking & discussing ACOTAR, ACOMAF, or giving suggestions/asking questions, I can be found at _<http://kitashiwrites.tumblr.com>_.
> 
> Hope to see you there!


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